Fall from grace!
by Mahala
Summary: Armed men take control of the port authority building threatening to blow it sky high. Team one responds but discover thing are far from what they seem. Action drama with a little h/c and hopefully a little humour. Set season 2. Sam, Spike, Greg, Ed centric fiction.
1. Prologue

This is my first attempt at a Flashpoint story set sometime in Season 2 (only because that is how far I have got with my boxed set). Donna is still with team awaiting Jules' return. It is a team action drama story with an iffy plot, a little h/c and hopefully a little humour; it has a definite bias towards Sam, Spike, Ed and Greg. (I have to confess to favouring the boys especially Sam! The girls only play minor roles! Jam if you squint.).

Disclaimer : please see profile. All locations, persons and organisations mentioned in this story are entirely fictitious and are made up for the purposes of this story. No relation to persons living or dead etc. etc. You get the idea.

**Prologue**

Spike and Wordy exchanged worried glances as they headed to the gym. Ed looked up, hiding a smile as they entered. Spike gestured over his shoulder with his thumb. "What's got into the Sarge?" he asked as Greg's angry voice echoed through the building.

Ed allowed the corners of his mouth to curl up. "Veronica Pelham." Spike and Wordy faces showed enlightenment.

"Who's Veronica Pelham?" asked Donna as she entered heading straight towards the stepper.

"News reporter for Channel 24."

Donna froze, her face clouding over as she looked at the three men for confirmation. "That idiot of a woman who reported our positions on live television during the bank heist?" They all nodded. "I hope he gives her hell," she spat as she threw down a towel and a bottle of water. She stabbed at the stepper's screen with her finger. "Stupid bitch," she muttered under her breath. "Should have shot her!" The men all grinned. Their sentiments exactly.

Spike and Wordy headed for the weights as Lou joined them. He tipped his head in the direction of Greg's office and cast them a quizzical look.

"Veronica Pelham," they all said in unison.

Lou grimaced. "Should have shot her," he muttered making the others snigger. He was about to get on the bike when the Sarge entered looking like thunder. Lou decided against it and quickly diverted to the rowing machine. Greg threw his stuff down in a huff and mounted the bike and began pedalling giving them all the impression that he intended to beat the long-suffering machine into submission. The team wisely chose to remain silent. Lou clicked on the TV but refrained from turning up the sound.

Ed pumped the weights for a few minutes before glancing at the clock. He frowned. "Anyone seen Sam?"

Greg looked up. "Oh meant to tell you, he's going to be late." Ed arched an eyebrow questioningly. "He's on the … er … M.U.I."

Spike, Lou and Wordy immediately stopped what they were doing and slowly turned around to stare in utter amazement. Ed's face broke into a grin. "Oh, you're kidding?" Greg smirked. "You got Sam to go?" he asked incredulous. Greg's smirk got a little broader. Ed's eyes opened wide. "I can't believe you convinced him to do it."

Without stopping pedalling Greg jiggled his head from side to side. "Hey! The other teams were complaining that they'd done it for the past four years so it was our turn to send somebody and I'm guessing none of you wanted to volunteer ..." The four men looked like they'd rather eat dirt. Greg nodded and continued, "... so I had a little heart to heart with Sam. What can I say? I'm a good negotiator!"

Donna was listening carefully to the conversation. Her eyes narrowed in confusion. "Er … what's an M.U.I?" The men all fell about laughing like a bunch of schoolboys.

Spike eventually put her out of her misery. He wiped the tears from his eyes. "It means Mission of the Utmost Importance ..." he spluttered as they all burst out laughing again.

Donna rolled her eyes as it was clear she wasn't going to get a coherent answer out of them. "Men!"

.

The work-out finished, Donna stalked out of the gym non the wiser as they had all flatly refused to tell her what on earth they were going on about. All she had to do was wait a couple of weeks and they would reveal all, they had promised as they continued to snigger and smirk. She paused with her hand on the door to the women's locker room as she contemplated asking Kira but decided it would have to wait as the others followed Greg out of the gym. They all froze as Sam came stalking down the corridor. Donna's jaw dropped. Rather than his usual cheeky grin his features were drawn into a scowl. Three distinct scratches stood out vivid red against his white cheek. He held his coat in one hand, the left sleeve of his shirt was bloody and looked like it had been shredded. His whole appearance was dishevelled. In fact, he looked like he been dragged through a hedge backwards.

Clearly his appearance surprised the others too as they all ground to a halt and stared in shock at the young blonde. Greg was the first to recover his voice. "Sam? What happened? Are you okay..." The words died on his lips as the young man faced them down.

He held up a finger, his eyes flashing danger. "Not … one … word," he hissed as he breezed past them into the men's changing room.

For a moment there was complete silence. Team One looked at the door of the men's room and then all turned to face Greg. He shrugged, his face a picture of utter confusion. "Don't look at me. I have no idea!"

Wordy frowned. "Were those leaves in his hair?"

"Maybe they were fig-leaves," Ed dead-panned as they all fell about laughing once more.

Donna rolled her eyes. _Men!_

An alarm sounded through the building. _"Hot Call. Team One."_

.

The two SUVs and the command vehicle accelerated down the street heading towards the waterfront. Kira's voice fed them information through their headsets. _"Initial reports suggest that a group of armed men have taken over the harbour management authority's administration building. They ordered personnel from the first and second floors to leave and have taken hostages on the fourth floor."_

"What about the third floor?" asked Ed.

"_It's currently unoccupied as it's being renovated."_

"Do we know how many gunmen or hostages?"

"_That's a negative."_ They could hear the apology in her voice. _"Initial reports are still coming in. People were panicked. They just headed for the doors. We are still trying to piece events together."_

"This could have something to do with the recent protests," suggested Wordy.

Riding shotgun with the Sarge, Sam could see him nod. "That's certainly possible. Kira you said multiple gunmen?"

"_Yes, they think at least four. Central says you should liaise with Inspector Becker when you arrive. There is a sizeable protest group at the entrance to the port lands. Uniforms are on site but expect some trouble."_

Greg nodded. "Copy that. ETA five minutes."

The city now behind them, the cars sped down the rough tarmac road surrounded on either side by short scrubby grass. To their left, the water was being whipped up by a cold northerly wind sending foaming white ridges to crash relentlessly against the breakwater. They approached a sign that indicated they were entering the port lands. Two groups of cold looking protesters hunched in heavy coats stood sullenly on either side of the road waving banners with demands for justice and a stop to lay-offs. A dozen or more uniformed officers made sure they could cause no trouble. The cars crawled past without incident leaving a sea of heads to follow their progress.

"Okay, that's the building coming up on our left," Greg said as Sam peered out of the wind-shield. Set on a promontory, the four storey plain concrete building looked like it had been built in the seventies. It was a featureless grey cube that sat forlornly in a flat, featureless landscape. It was fronted by a large, open expanse of concrete that was partly car-parking and partly redundant space. A metal chain-link fence protected unauthorized personnel from entering the end of the promontory. A series of low-slung Portakabins sat parallel to the water's edge on the right opposite the building. Several squad cars were parked in a semi-circle near the closest of the cabins. Sam could see the yachts and motorboats in the marina bobbing up and down in their slips in the distance. The only other edifice of any note was an old rusted crane that had once served to load and unload cargo from the vessels in the days when the harbour had been a bustling cargo port. Today it had been fenced off and painted a deep grey. It was hung with a red and white banner that stated boldly: 'Harbour Management Authority. Working for You.'

Greg glanced at Sam. "You sure, you're okay Sam?"

"Fine," Sam answered curtly, a deep blush of embarrassment flooding his cheeks as he tugged at his sleeve that covered his hastily bandaged arm. Greg would have liked to ask him how he got the multitude of tiny scratches but they were approaching their destination.

As they rolled in through the gate, a stocky man in a long beige raincoat stood up from behind the squad cars and waved urgently to them encouraging them to complete the circle of cars. Sam felt like they were some kind of wagon-train forming a defensive circle. As soon as they pulled to a stop they all hopped out. The man in the beige raincoat headed straight for them. "Parker!" He greeted the Sarge clearly recognizing him.

"Becker, what have we got?"

Becker, a stout man in his early forties with deep-set eyes and a hooked nose rubbed at his bristly chin as though still trying to get his head around what had just happened. "According to witnesses, just over forty minutes ago, a number of armed men ... could be four or five … entered the building via the main entrance." He pointed to a set of featureless glass doors in the centre of the building. "They cleared everyone from the first and second floors. Then they went straight up to the fourth floor and barricaded the doors. One of the witnesses said that at least two of the men were carrying large hold-alls. Looked heavy. They were all wearing hats and hoodies. They didn't say anything to anybody other than to get out."

"Where are the witnesses now?"

Becker pointed to one of the Portakabins. "It's a temporary office while the building is being renovated. I've got them all in there with two uni's. We've got the perimeter secure. I've got men with the protesters and EMS are on stand-by." Greg turned to Wordy and Lou indicating they should go help verify statements. Both men nodded and trotted off.

"Do we know how many hostages?" Becker shook his head. Greg sighed. "Okay we need eyes and ears."

Ed scanned the building and grimaced. "No way we can get close enough without them seeing us."

Sam pointed to the old crane. "That should give us enough elevation to get eyes on the fourth floor." Greg looked up at the old structure and turned to the young man. He bit his lip hesitating for a moment considering the distances but then nodded. Sam would be a better choice over the longer distance.

"Okay, Sam. You're Sierra one." He rubbed his cold hands as Sam headed to the back of the truck to pull out his gear. "Ed, Donna, you're with me. Becker, those protesters at the gate, can you get your men to question them. See if any of them are aware of what's going on? I'd like to know if the two are linked." Becker nodded and hurried to his car. Greg headed to the command truck with Ed and Donna in tow. All three were glad to be inside. The grey skies and lack of sun had already lowered the temperature and the sharp northerly wind made it feel ten degrees colder. Greg knew that Sam had had cold weather training in the special forces but he felt a twinge of regret for leaving the poor kid out in the cold even if Sam had volunteered.

Spike looked up from the computer as they entered. "Okay, I've got the floor plans of the building and an office directory. There are twelve allocated office spaces on that floor and a large conference room. It's right above the main entrance. And before you ask, no there are no surveillance cameras other than one that monitors the front door. Live feed only."

"Great! So we've no images of our guys?" Spike shook his head. Ed grimaced.

"Boss?" Wordy ushered in a young woman in a smart blue suit. "This is Melanie Adams. She's in charge of reception." He smiled encouragingly at her. "Tell them what you told me." The young fair-haired woman smiled nervously, tucking a long strand of blond hair behind her ear.

"The board of directors have their weekly meeting this afternoon so the President and CEO, and his three executive staff are not in the building. The only people on the fourth floor are Jean Watson who's in charge of Communications and Public affairs, William Greaves who's Head of HR, Ben Hopkins who's General Manager for the Marina, Sandy Graham who's General Manager of the Marine Terminals, and James Mills who's the Assistant Financial Director." As she spoke Spike marked off the names on the list he had printed.

Greg nodded. "So only five people? You're sure?"

Melanie nodded. "They have to badge in so I know who's in the building. All the others are accounted for. I made sure." Greg smiled at her. Clearly she took her job seriously.

"That's great Melanie. Did you see the men who entered?"

Melanie nodded, her hand going once more for the errant strand of hair. "There were … five of them ..." she stammered.

"Five? You're sure?"

She nodded again. "There was the leader, the one who shouted at everyone to get out. Then the two who waved their guns around, getting everyone to leave and then the two with the bags who headed straight for the stairs."

"Can you describe them?"

Melanie hesitated and fiddled with the strand of hair. "Er … no! Not really! It happened so quickly. They were all wearing dark clothing. They had hats and sweatshirts with the hoods pulled up … and they wore those plastic glasses. Er, you know like when you do home improvements?"

Ed dug a hand into a pocket and pulled out a pair of eye protectors with a sturdy grey frame. "Like these?"

Melanie smiled a little. "Yes … but that's all I can tell you. I'm sorry. It all happened so quickly. They just rushed in brandishing their guns and shouted at everyone to get out. We just ran for the doors." Greg thanked her and Wordy escorted her out.

Greg ran his hand down the back of his head. "Okay, let's see if we can establish contact and find out what these guys want."

At that precise moment Kira's voice crackled in their ears. _"Sarge, call for you."_

"Who is it?"

"_Says he's the guy in charge. He calls himself Captain Ahab!"_


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Jules walked stiffly into her kitchen and opened the refrigerator. She contemplated the almost empty interior: a bottle of mineral water, some mayonnaise and a roll of cookie dough. Not exactly what she had in mind for lunch. Some guardian angel had kindly cleaned it out while she was in hospital, emptied her trash and watered her pot plant. She suspected Sam. A whole stack of get well soon cards stood along the windowsill. Although she was feeling a lot better she knew it would be at least another six weeks till she would be able to go back to work. _Work! Sam!_ She couldn't bear to think about it so she pushed the thoughts away as she closed the fridge door. There was nothing for it. Despite the fatigue of having only just got out of hospital, she had to go grocery shopping.

She crossed the room to get her purse when the doorbell rang. Jules headed for the door and looked through the spyhole. She felt herself smile as she pulled back the chain and opened the door.

"JULES!"

The bubbly, dark-skinned woman with a mass of impossible curls grinned broadly at her over the top of the enormous grocery bag. She barged her way into the apartment. "A little birdie told me you were back! I've got you groceries … loads of healthy food." She turned back with a frown. "Shouldn't you be in bed or at least sitting down?" She didn't stop for an answer. " You should sit down. I'm cooking you lunch. You look pale. I bet that hospital food was simply awful. Why they don't provide patients with proper food is beyond me! How on earth do they expect people to get better with the slop they serve?" She jiggled from foot to foot as she kicked off her shoes and shrugged out of her coat which she let drop on the floor. "I'm going to do Chicken Tah...jine. I got the recipe off the internet," she called as she headed to the kitchen leaving Jules to close the door, pick up the abandoned coat and roll her eyes at the thought of being guinea pig for yet another of her best friend's internet culinary experiments. "And I've got cheesecake from that awesome little deli on the corner and movies. Becca would have come too but she has to work. She's got … ANOTHER … job! Heaven knows how long this one will last. She quit the last one after only four weeks." She dumped the bag on the counter and turned to face Jules studying her carefully. "You are okay aren't you? Are you sure that they should have let you leave the hospital? You have seen your own doctor haven't you?"

"I'm fine Carmen," Jules interjected, desperate to interrupt the constant flow.

Carmen's curls bounced up and down irritably. "How can you possibly be fine? You've been shot Jules! Anyway, sit down, put your feet up. I am going to spoil you rotten all weekend. This recipe should be awesome. It got five stars. You're going to love it." She pulled out a bottle of wine from the bag. "Permitted?" Jules nodded unable to prevent a smile at her friend's concern. "Awesome! We're going to have a blast!"

.

In the back of the command truck Greg stood with his hands on his hips as Kira transferred the call. Donna looked askingly at Ed who whispered, "That's gotta be a first. Hostage-taker calls us instead of the other way round." Spike pulled a face in agreement and began typing the transcript.

Greg took a deep breath. "This is Sergeant Gregory Parker of the Strategic Response Unit."

The comm's link crackled. The all listened carefully to the voice which was male, clipped and confident. "Good morning, Sergeant Parker. My name is Captain Ahab. I am currently standing behind Jean Watson, Head of Communications and Public affairs with a gun pointed at her head. Isn't that so?" A female voice answered in the affirmative,sounding remarkably calm and collected. "My colleagues are keeping our other guests in a similar manner. They are at present unharmed and will remain so provided you comply with our requests. I should warn you that any attempt by your unit to storm the building will be met with extreme force. The third floor has been wired with twenty pounds of Semtex ..." Alarmed, Greg grabbed for a paper and pen scrawling 'Semtex – source?'. Spike nodded to indicate he was on it. "... and we will not hesitate to blow up this building and the hostages unless our demands are met."

"I understand. May I ask what your demands are?"

"Please do not interrupt! Firstly, we want all charges to be dropped against the five protesters who were arrested and their arrest records cleared. Secondly, we want all personnel made redundant as part of the recent cost-cutting programme to be paid one year's salary as a severance package and to be provided with the services of an employment agency until they have found new jobs. Lastly we want a television news crew to be brought here by midday for a press conference that will be broadcast live and repeated on the hourly news broadcasts for the rest of the day. Those are our demands and they are non-negotiable. We will contact you in one hour."

Greg opened his mouth to speak but the line went dead. Spike looked at Ed who appeared to be as baffled as he was. "That went well," he muttered to himself.

Greg changed channel. "Kira can you get him back?"

"_No. He's taken the phone off the hook."_

"Okay. Keep trying. Sierra One? Talk to me Sam!"

.

The moment they had arrived Sam could feel the hairs on his neck stand on edge. It was as though all colour had been leached from the place. The iron-grey sky was reflected in the choppy waters of the lake. A lone osprey circled overhead emitting a series of sharp calls sending a shudder through him. Sam studied the lay of the land. The location that the hostage-takers had chosen was near-perfect. The administration building was bound on one side by the lake. The rest was wide open-space so there was no cover for a stealthy approach, the port lands being largely abandoned from the days of heavy industry. The only operating facilities left were the energy generating plant and the waste incinerator plant some distance to the north. A cloud of smoke billowed into the air above the plant's smoke stack before being blown at an angle towards the city making it look like an accusatory pointing finger.

Sam scanned the building's façade. The hostage-takers had taken a manageable number of hostages and chosen a high position. The only structure of a similar height was the old crane that stood at the water's edge. Once Greg had given his go-ahead, Sam had hefted his gear onto his shoulder, circumnavigated the Portakabins, climbed the short incline that formed part of the breakwater and jogged the short distance to the crane. Standing some seventy feet high it was tiny compared to the modern tower cranes that Sam could see on the horizon to the south. It was surrounded by a series of stone pillars linked by painted black chains. Two gigantic ships anchors had been positioned on either side as decorations. Sam climbed over the chain, the gravel crunching under his feet and glanced down at the brass heritage plaque set into a stone. He caught the date 1882 but didn't have time to take in the rest. He just hoped that it wasn't the date the crane had been built. Now he was close he could see the rust on the girders. He could feel the spray from the water on his face, the cuts on his cheek stinging from the cold air. He settled his pack on his back, tested the ladder that ran up one side and started his climb.

Somehow he had expected the ladder to wobble but it seemed solidly built. As he climbed he heard Greg start negotiations or rather the other way round. It took only a few minutes for him to reach the level where the jib and counter-weights were positioned. Judging by the amount of rust and paint it hadn't been operated in years. He emerged onto a small platform where he pulled off his bag and set it on the beaten metal sheet that formed part of the narrow walkway. The banner that was hung from the top edge of the jib slapped gently against the iron framework. He crouched down behind it, glad of the slight respite it provided from the wind. He crawled along the jib, the struts on either side hemming him in, until he reached the end of the banner and looked around. The harbour management authority's administration building lay some ninety yards away. There appeared to be people moving around on the upper floor. _Perfect!_ Sam pulled his Remington sniper rifle from it's bag, rapidly assembled it and laid it on the grill that formed the surface he was kneeling on. Shivering as the cold penetrated his pants, he stretched himself out using the bag as a support for his elbows and as a cushion from the cold metal beneath him. He jammed one foot against the iron girder grateful that he was wearing thermals under his dark grey uniform. He lifted the scope to his eye and adjusted the sights.

He carefully swung the rifle from east to west and back, taking in every detail while simultaneously listening to the Sarge's conversation with the man calling himself Captain Ahab.

"_Okay. Keep trying. Sierra One? Talk to me Sam!"_

"One gunman in the conference room with two hostages, a red-headed woman in her late thirties and a black man with tight cropped hair ..."

"_Okay hold on ..."_ Sam could hear the Sarge talking to Spike. _"Okay that has to be Jean Watson who's in charge of Communications and Public affairs, and James Mills who's the Assistant Financial Director. Go on Sam."_

"Both hostages are sat at the conference table." Sam squinted through the scope. "They appear to be arguing."

"_With the gunman?"_ Sam could hear the surprise in Greg's voice.

"No with each other. The gunman looks like he's trying to intervene. They're looking through some papers. The woman is shaking her head as though she doesn't like what she's seeing. The gunman is pointing something out to her in one of the documents. The other guy, Mills, he looks … well to be honest … shocked!"

"_What about the other hostages?"_ Ed, this time.

Sam swung the scope right. "Negative. There's someone in the south-east corner office but the blinds are down. Wait! There are two shadows pacing the room. No movement in the other offices."

"_Sam? The gunman in the conference room? Do you have the solution?"_

Sam swung his scope back. The three people hadn't moved. They were still studying the documents, the two harbour management employees seated at the conference table, the gunman still standing behind them gesturing at the documents. His gun was held loosely over one shoulder and was pointed at the floor. In fact, if it hadn't been for that, the hat and the hoodie, he could have been a senior manager advising two colleagues. "There is no immediate threat but I have the solution."

"_Okay Sam hold your position. Tell me immediately if anything changes."_

"Copy that." Sam concentrated on the events taking place in the conference room but swept his sights across the entire façade every few minutes. He ignored the discomfort of the hard surface he was lying on, the cold that was beginning to penetrate his layers of clothing and the stinging from the scratches on his face and arm. If he had learnt one thing in the army it was patience and the ability to blend into his surroundings. Partially hidden by the large banner and wearing a uniform similar to the colour of the crane, only a person looking directly up at jib would spot the barrel of his gun sticking out. He could remain there for hours if need be.

.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Veronica Pelham stood stiffly with her arms folded as her boss, an overweight, balding man with a crumpled shirt paced up and down behind his desk that overflowed with papers, books, articles and computer monitors. "Dammit Ronnie! This is big news. Hostage situation. Armed gunmen. It's not just more protests by disgruntled workers."

"I'm sending Jim."

Veronica Pelham's green eyes shot daggers as she planted her beautifully manicured hands on her hips. "The hell you are! Is this because of that bank heist report? I was only doing my job!"

Ronnie rounded on her. "Your job? Heaven Almighty Veronica, I had Greg Parker giving me hell on the phone this morning. You compromised the lives of his team by your over-zealous reporting. What were you thinking? Going live on national television and pointing out their positions? Do you realize what the consequences could have been?"

Veronica huffed irritably, waving a dismissive hand. "He's blowing it out of all proportion. And it's not like it made any difference. Everyone got out and no one was hurt."

"This time!" Ronnie glared at his star reporter. If she wasn't so damn popular and so damned attractive, he'd have fired the cold-blooded, devious vixen years ago. Veronica planted her hands and leaned across his desk, showing more cleavage than was decent and turned those mesmerising eyes on him.

"This is breaking news Ronnie and it's perfect timing for the midday. The time we get there, get set up, get some background. Come on Ronnie! It's gonna be BIG!"

Ronnie grimaced and ran a sweaty hand over his balding head. "Fine, take it! But for God's sake stay out of Greg Parker's way!"

.

Greg stood stiffly with his arms folded. He glanced at Ed. "Thoughts?"

"This is definitely not your usual hostage situation. These guys are organized. They've got very specific demands. They called us. They knew we'd be here. What I'm puzzled about is how did they get here? They've no obvious transport and they have no obvious means of escape. That wasn't part of their demands so either they are going to ask for that later or ..."

"... or they have no intention of escaping!" Greg bit his lip as he pondered the possibilities.

"They might have a helicopter?" suggested Donna.

"Possible." agreed Ed. "At least as a means of escape. Someone would have noticed a helicopter dropping them off unless they landed some distance away and they hiked the rest of the way on foot."

Spike turned round from the monitor. "There have been no reports of stolen Semtex in the last twelve months."

Greg nodded but remained silent. The others waited on him. "Not money, not revenge. This is about ..."

"_Justice!"_ Sam's voice crackled in their ear-pieces. _"Sarge, you need to see this!"_

The four team members headed for the door and stepped out into the cold to look at the building. From several windows on the fourth floor white sheets hung flapping slightly in the wind. Each sheet was spray-painted with a single red letter. 'J...U...S...T...I...' As they watched a sixth window opened and another sheet appeared. 'C'. A few seconds later the seventh opened. They didn't need to wait to see the letter. Greg turned to Spike as he glanced at his watch. "I need as much background as possible on the protests, on the five people who were arrested and those who have been laid off in the past sixth months." He turned to Ed. "Find Becker and get him to find me the ring-leader of those protesters."

.

Fifteen minutes later, the entire team minus Sam and Ed were crowded in the command truck. Spike and Lou were sat at the consoles.

Lou started them off. "Okay, this started eight months ago when the financial results were announced. There was a significant operating loss, much larger than the previous year's. The harbour management authority announced a cost-cutting programme and two rounds of lay-offs. The first targeted those near to retirement, those on renewable contracts and those in part-time positions. The second affected people across the board and made a hundred and sixty people redundant."

"That's a lot of disgruntled employees," commented Donna.

Spike nodded. "It was the second round of lay-offs that started the protests. It was during the third protest that things got a little out of hand and about twenty people were arrested although only five of them were actually charged : a Brian Hunt, Joshua Blaine, Michael Samson, Harrison Brown and David Melville."

Greg frowned. "Melville?"

Spike looked up surprised. "You know him?"

Greg shook his head. "No but I'd like to speak with him," he said cryptically. "See if you can track him down."

Spike was about to call Kira when the door opened allowing in a cold blast of air. Ed ushered in a heavy-set, man in his mid-thirties with short dark hair and dark brooding eyes. He was dressed in cold weather gear. He glared at the SRU officers with barely-disguised disdain. Ed gave him a little shove. "Allow me to introduce David Melville!"

Greg and Spike couldn't prevent looks of surprise. "Mr Melville, I'm Sergeant Greg Parker. Can you please tell me what's going on here? Who are the people who have taken over the administration building?"

David Melville shifted uncomfortably. "No idea."

Ed hissed in his ear. "That's what you said earlier. But somehow Inspector Becker and I don't believe you especially as their first demand was that the charges against you be dropped. And you have no idea who would do that?" Melville didn't answer but his eyes flicked around the group before looking down at the ground.

Greg stepped forward. "Tell me about Captain Ahab." The man's head snapped up, his face clearly surprised but he remained silent. "Spike, play the recording of the demands." Spike turned to the keyboard in front of him and accessed the file. The team watched David Melville's face pale as he listened to the demands. Greg stepped closer into the man's personnel space. "Who is he?" The man shook his head in denial. "Come on David. Melville. Captain Ahab. Moby Dick." David swallowed. "Is he family?" Greg watched his Adam's Apple jump. "Brother? Father?" The man jumped almost hitting the ceiling. "Spike, who's listed as contact details on Mr Melville's arrest file."

Spike tapped at the keyboard. "Curtis Melville. 62 years old. Scarborough address."

"What do think David? Shall we call him? Is he at home? What about your mom?" Greg pressed.

David Melville seemed to shrink before them. "My mom's dead. Dad's not at home." He buried his face in his hands. "I didn't think this is what he meant."

The door opened once more and Becker put his head in. "Head's up. Press is here." Greg grimaced pinching the bridge of his nose. That was all he needed.

Ed saw the look on his face and raised a hand. "I'll go."

Donna's eyes narrowed. "I'll come with you."

Greg pulled up a chair getting David to sit. "What did he mean David? Tell me what's going on!"

The young man buried his head in his hands. "This is not supposed to be happening. Oh God! What is he doing?"

Greg put a hand on his shoulder. "Let me help. Talk to me David, please."

David Melville looked up utterly distraught. "He just wants to help. I can't believe he's doing this."

.

Ed strode across the tarmac as the Channel 24 news van pulled up just outside the perimeter gates. It had barely pulled to a halt before Veronica Pelham and her camera man jumped out. Ed noticed her look around nervously as she zipped up her jacket and pulled up the hood but soon her eyes lit up. Ed knew she was looking to avoid Greg. When she spied Ed she put on her best smile.

"Veronica Pelham, Channel 24 News," she began.

"I know who you are," Ed answered coldly. Her smile faded slightly and positively wilted as she caught Donna's hard stare. Another van pulled up beside them. Veronica grimaced as she recognized her rival Sean Peters. Ed turned to the uniformed officers guarding the gate. "Keep them outside the perimeter. Under no circumstances are they allowed any closer." He stepped up to Veronica. "I swear to God, if you endanger the lives of any of my team I will not be held responsible for my actions," he hissed.

Veronica had the good grace to pale and look repentant. She nodded. "Look, I'm sorry about what happened. It won't happen again. Now please, give me something to run with ..." She left the sentence hanging.

"No details!" Ed ordered. Again she nodded. Ed sighed knowing he had to give them something to keep them happy. "Armed gunmen have taken a number of hostages inside the building. They have made a number of demands and ..." He held up a hand as she was about to interrupt. "... as you know we don't give into demands but negotiations are under way and we are doing everything we can to ensure the safety of the hostages and bring this situation to a rapid conclusion." She looked dissatisfied so he added in a more conciliatory tone, "I'll give you another update as soon as I can."

.

Sam shuffled uncomfortably trying to restore a little warmth to his arms and legs. Jean Watson and James Mills were still sitting at the conference table poring over documents and working on a computer. The man calling himself Captain Ahab was slowly pacing the room while they worked occasionally stopping to point something out or check on what they were doing. He seemed relaxed. His hand was no longer on the semi-automatic rifle that was slung over his shoulder. In fact the two hostages seemed relaxed in his company too. There was no sign of the other gunmen or hostages though Sam did notice shadows behind the blinds of the corner office. Sam frowned not sure what to make of what he was seeing. This was definitely not your normal hostage situation.

Suddenly Ahab stopped pacing and the two hostages turned around to look at him. Sam watched as Ahab pulled a phone from his pocket and raised it to his ear. He walked to the window and looked out towards the gates. He spoke briefly before pocketing the phone and returning to the conference table. Sam quickly turned his scope towards the entrance. He could see Ed and Donna talking to a woman with platinum blond hair partially hidden by a fur trimmed hood. Behind her a man was pulling camera equipment from the truck. Sam swung the scope back. Ahab and the two harbour management employees were deep in conversation.

"Sarge?"

"_Yes Sam. What's up?"_

"Our guy just took a call on a cell phone. Someone told him the press is here."

"_Copy that. What is he doing?"_

"Same as before. They're all sat at the conference table working on the documents. No sign of the others."

"_Copy that. Are you okay Sam? Do you need one of the others to replace you?"_

Sam would never have admitted he was frozen. "No, I'm good." Greg acknowledged his call and Sam dug a hand into his kit pulling out a flat plastic pouch. Thank God for heat packs he thought to himself as he ripped open the soft, light-weight pouch containing an inert mixture of iron powder, charcoal, salt, water and vermiculite. As it came into contact with the air, its natural exothermic reaction generated a welcome heat. He allowed it to warm his hands for a few minutes before shoving it up his jacket. _This was nothing compared to the cold weather training he had been forced to endure in the Rockies in order to get into special forces. He was good for another couple of hours._

.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

David Melville seemed to deflate as he finished telling his story, the sullen attitude with which he had entered evaporating. He and his four colleagues had been the ones to organise the protests after they were included in the second round of job cuts. All the employees affected by the lay-offs had been given a minimal notice and a loop-hole in company policy meant that most of them had left with only a month's salary despite most of them having over ten years of service. Their protests had been peaceful, consisting of petitions, lobbying local officials and protest marches. There had been no violence yet he and the others had been arrested and charged with disturbing the peace and unlawful assembly. The police had seemed to know exactly who to arrest.

Greg listened intently as David explained. "The whole thing was crazy. There was no valid reason for the job cuts. Business was booming. The outlook was great. Okay there was an operating loss but the marina was full and there was a waiting list for slips. We'd put forward a plan for expanding it, including a new yacht club, restaurant and sailing school. The new cruise terminal was up and running and we're looking at breaking even this coming year. There were also plans for a helipad on port lands most of which are still largely unused as well as a sports complex and luxury hotel. A large portion of land was being sold off to the fuel companies, the monies from which were to fund various projects. Yet the board put a stop to all our plans, said it couldn't afford them and suddenly we were all out of a job." David turned tear-filled eyes to the men listening to him. "It hit a lot of people hard. Good people! One minute we were hard-working employees fighting to save the company and the next we were on the street with criminal records for something we didn't do. It was tough making ends meet. Suddenly we couldn't afford to heat our houses, clothe our kids. Some people lost their homes. One guy even killed himself; he was so ashamed that he could no longer support his family. And then to cap it all the board decided to renovate the building. They're spending thousands of dollars doing up that old building starting with the executive floor, of course. New décor, new furniture, and a fancy new conference room with all the latest gadgets while good men and women were standing outside demanding to know why their jobs were being cut."

"How does your father fit into all this?" asked Greg gently.

"Several months ago just after the others and I were arrested he came round to see me. He was asking all sorts of questions about the board members and the executive officers, and where various meetings were held. I asked him why but he wouldn't tell me but he said that something was going on and he was going to make it right. That's when he got together with Ross Blaine and Bobby Hunt."

"Joshua Blaine and Brian Hunt's fathers?" David nodded. "Could the other men inside be related to Michael Samson and Harrison Brown?"

"It's possible but I don't know."

Greg thought for a moment. "Do you know where your father would get hold of Semtex?"

David's eyes almost fell from his head as he stared at Greg. "Semtex? As in explosives? No! No way!" He stared at the officers. "He wouldn't use explosives. I can't even believe he's got a gun. It has to be one of the others. My dad was an accountant for crying out loud. He worked for the audit commission. He only just retired last month."

Kira's voice crackled in Greg's ear. He thanked David and acknowledged her call. _"Okay I reached out to City Hall and mentioned the name Curtis Melville. It's set all sorts of bells ringing. It seems that he was encouraged to take early retirement. Just before his departure, he had been asking a lot of awkward questions. And ruffling a few feathers. Rumour is that he had some damaging material about the harbour management authority's board of directors including financial mismanagement, misconduct and fraud."_

"Okay, thanks Kira." An idea was forming in Greg's mind as to what Captain Ahab's intentions were but he needed to get inside that building. "Spike, Lou, how are you doing?"

Spike looked up. "I've got an idea but I'm not sure we'll fit." Greg arched an eyebrow. "According to the plans the main electric, hydro and fibre-optics are laid in an access tunnel that leads from the main road directly under the building. If this is to scale it should be a little under three feet square." Spike's eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. "Check it out?" he asked. Greg nodded. Spike and Lou slipped out as Wordy took Spike's place.

.

Ed and Donna looked up as Spike and Lou headed towards them. Spike saw the press gathered behind the police line and the gates and, with a tip of his head, gestured that they should meet him out of earshot by the Portakabins. The four officers huddled together. Spike held out a small tablet computer. It showed a set of blueprints. "There's an access tunnel to the building for electric, hydro and fibre-optics."

Ed grinned. "Nice! Big enough for us to fit?"

Spike nodded. "It might be a bit of a tight squeeze but with any luck ..."

"Okay, where is it?"

Spike grimaced. "Ah? Well. Unfortunately it's not that specific ..." He pointed to the gate where the Channel 24 news team were preparing a report. "...it comes directly in from the gate and then angles in towards the building. There should be an access panel just before the angle. Sort of ..." He pointed towards the circle of squad cars. "...there somewhere but we can't just wander around looking at the ground. It might raise suspicions."

"There somewhere?" Ed asked incredulous as Spike shrugged an apology. "Very helpful. Well, fortunately, we have our own eyes in the sky." He flicked the microphone on his headset. "Sam, you there?"

"_Still here."_

"I need you to take a close look at the ground in front of the building. We're looking for an access panel to the hydro tunnel roughly half way between the entrance gate and the building. It comes in a straight line from the road and then angles off towards the building but I can't be more specific than that."

"_Copy that."_

While Sam was looking, Ed turned to Spike. "Where does it come out?"

Spike tapped the screen to bring up the plans of the basement. "In the basement next to the emergency generator and the boiler room. There's a maintenance room with the electrical panels and the switching for the phone lines."

"_Ed?"_

"Go ahead Sam."

"_You're standing virtually on top of it. It's about thirty feet to your two, partly obscured by the front of the command truck."_

"Copy that. Thanks Sam. You okay up there?"

"_You mean apart from freezing my nuts off?"_

The four members of Team One grinned at the kid's humour. "Hang tight Sam. We're going in."

"_Copy that."_

.

Veronica Pelham did a short introductory piece to camera and then allowed Nick, her cameraman, to get a few general shots. As he did so she watched Ed Lane and his colleagues gather in a group their heads close together. Veronica narrowed her eyes. Something was going down. She watched them carefully as they all turned to look at the command truck. She wondered what they were planning. If only she could get closer. Suddenly they turned and walked towards the large black truck which was parked at an angle obscuring her view. She walked a way to her right to see round the edge of the truck but she couldn't see what they were looking at so she headed back in the opposite direction, the uniformed cops watching her every move. She tried to keep it casual. She followed the perimeter fence stumbling in her high heels as she crossed the rough grass. She was forced to look down to see where to step but when she looked back up she was surprised to see that the four officers were no longer in view. She was sure they had gone round the front of the truck but there was no one other than several uniformed officers who had retreated to the relative warmth of their squad cars. Veronica stared in amazement. "Where the hell have they gone?"

.

"Oh man, it stinks down here!" Lou whispered under his breath clinging to the short ladder as he pulled the access panel closed above him. Ed shone a torch along the concrete tunnel. Spike peered over his shoulder and wrinkled his nose in the dank stale air.

"What can you see?" asked Donna.

"Not a lot," admitted Ed as he slung his weapon over his shoulder. The tunnel which was made out of concrete square sections was smaller than Spike had made out and at least half of it was filled with a series of pipes and bundles of wires that ran along the left hand wall. Some were protected by a fine mesh grill. Alongside was a narrow crawlspace. Ed looked back at Donna. "Ladies first?" he asked, his eyes sparkling with amusement. She glared at him arching an eyebrow. He grinned and ducked his head down.

Spike dropped to his knees and watched Ed for a few seconds before following him into the space. "I don't have a good feeling about this," he muttered as he stared at Ed's rear a few feet ahead of him. "I hope there aren't any rats."

"Don't tell me your people have a thing about tunnels too?" Lou shook his head in amusement as Spike glared at him. "Look on the bright side Spike. At least we're not out in the freezing cold like Sam."

"_More action. Less chat people."_ Greg's voice echoed over their comm's unit. _"Is this going to work?"_

"I sure as hell hope so," grunted Ed as he tried not to bump his head. His shoulders barely fit between the rough concrete to his right and the electrical cables to his left. "Because there is no way in hell I'm gonna be able to turn around."

.

Carmen clattered around the kitchen dragging pans and dishes out of Jules cupboards.

"Are you sure you don't want me to help?" asked Jules somewhat aghast at her friend's determination to turn her kitchen into something resembling a culinary war zone. Sam would freak. He was the tidiest cook Jules had ever come across. Her stomach clenched at the thought of him. _She had worked so hard to get onto Team One and she couldn't give that up, could she?_

Carmen hauled a huge pot out of the cupboard causing Jules to wonder exactly how many people she thought she was cooking for. "No! Absolutely not! You need to rest. Have you had your medication?" Carmen fussed. Jules assured her that she was fine and she didn't need any. She sipped at her tea trying not to cringe at the strange herbal brew Carmen had brought her. Her stomach rumbled and Jules was surprised to find that she had quite an appetite. She hoped that Carmen's latest gastronomic adventure would turn out to be edible. Jules cringed as a pan clattered to the floor.

Jules grabbed the remote and flicked through the channels. She paused on a news channel and scanned the breaking news headlines. The news anchor spoke in a deep reassuring tone informing viewers that they were going live to the port lands. A handsome man with fine features and high cheekbones appeared. The tag line said his name was Sean Peters. Jules was about to change channels when she spotted the familiar cars in the background. Only half-listening to the reporter she focused her attention on the background. She spotted Spike and Lou emerging from the truck and walking away to a set of low buildings to converse with Ed and Donna. She felt a small spark of envy on seeing her replacement. Temporary replacement she reminded herself. Six weeks of physio and she'd be back. She wondered where the others were. The cameraman obliged her by panning across the scene slowly to a building where the word 'justice' was emblazoned across its façade in large red letters. The reporter was saying : _"...where an unknown number of gunmen have taken hostages in what is believed to be the executive suite. This latest event follows a series of protests about job cuts during which several former employees of the authority were arrested and charged with a variety of offences under the public order act."_

Jules scanned the scene with a critical eye. If Ed and the others were outside that meant they were Alpha and Beta teams so Greg would probably be in the command truck with either Sam or Wordy. There was little or no cover and the only vantage point would be the crane that stood in the background. Jules reckoned that Greg would have someone positioned up there. She shuddered thinking whoever it was would be frozen.

"Okay!" Carmen appeared by Jules. "What shall we watch while I cook? Knocked-up or Juno?" she asked.

Jules tried not to grimace. Neither, she thought. "You choose," she said. She watched as Carmen changed the channel and put in the DVD. Jules wished she could have followed the news report to see how Team One were faring. She hoped Sam was alright.

.

A/N : Next update Monday. Hope it's okay so far. Thanks for reading.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

True to his word the man calling himself Captain Ahab called exactly an hour after he had first spoken to Greg.

"_Sergeant Parker, I see that the news crews are present. Are my other requests being fulfilled?"_

Greg decided to go for a direct approach knowing he couldn't lie. "I have requested that your son's case be reviewed by the appropriate authorities … Curtis."

Greg could almost hear the man smile. _"I knew you'd figure it out sooner or later. I've read about your unit. You guys are good."_

"So I believe are you, if what your son tells me is true."

"_You've spoken to David?" _Greg sensed hesitation in the man's voice.

"He's here Curtis. He doesn't want you to do this. He doesn't want you to get into trouble on his account."

"_I think it's a little late for that. But my son is worth it. He and his colleagues have been made out to be the bad guys in this affair. They've lost their jobs and their reputations. They've been given criminal records when these men have done nothing wrong. It is the board of directors who are the bad guys and I intend to expose them for what they are."_

"What is that?"

"_Corrupt, selfish men who are prepared to do anything to make a fast buck and care nothing for the hard-working men and women in their employ."_

"You can still do that. Just let the hostages go, come out peacefully and we'll work together to ensure justice is done."

Curtis Melville barked a short sharp laugh. _"You really believe that Sergeant Parker? I guess you do. You're one of the good guys but they're not all like that. Someone in the police department gave orders for David and his friends to be arrested on those trumped up charges. Someone high up in city hall is covering for the board and someone has ensured that the fraud has gone un-investigated. I've been looking into this a long while Sergeant Parker, ever since my son told me about the lay-offs and the cancellation of port land renewal projects. I have been stonewalled at every turn. I'm sorry Sergeant Parker. This is the only way."_

"No Curtis, it isn't. I can help."

"_I know you think you can but you can't. This is bigger than both of us. I'm going to get justice for my son and for all those people who have been victimized by these men. Now no more talking. I want a news team to brought to the main door of the building in one hour. I want my statement broadcast live on the midday news. I am going to make people see what is going on here."_

The line went dead. "Dammit!" Greg threw his hands in the air in frustration.

Wordy looked up at him from the computer terminal. "Do you think he'll do it? Blow the building I mean?"

Greg pressed his lips together. "I don't know. He doesn't strike me as a violent man. He has no criminal record. Everything we've dug up on him shows him to be a decent, hard-working man. There have been no shots fired. He seems on cordial terms with the hostages. He just wants justice for his son. Did you get a copy of David's arrest report?"

Wordy nodded looking unhappy. "Oh yeah, and it's the shortest, most vaguely worded report I've ever read. It just said that David was arrested following a 'verbal altercation with officers during an unlawful public gathering'. The other arrest reports were the same. To be honest Greg the way it reads warrants a slap on the wrist or a verbal warning not the stack of charges they threw at them."

Greg slumped in a chair, running a hand across his face. "You know, I know what he's doing is wrong but what father doesn't want to protect their son? He's tried conventional routes and come up against a brick wall. Now he feels he's been backed into a corner and that makes him desperate. And a desperate man is a dangerous man."

Wordy nodded in agreement. "Well, according to Sam the hostages don't feel threatened. It sounds like they're having a ball."

Greg had to smile as he recalled Sam's last report. "Yeah, there aren't many hostage-takers that make coffee for their hostages."

"_Alpha team. We're in."_ Ed's voice echoed over the comm's link.

"About time too! What's your status?" Greg sat up straight looking at his watch. "Less than forty minutes to showtime."

"_We're in the basement. Maintenance room. We're heading for the upper floors now via the west stairwell."_

"_Bravo here. We're at the east stairwell."_ Spike interjected.

"Okay, Alpha. Bravo. Check out the third floor. Let's find out what we're dealing with."

.

Ed and Donna moved cautiously up the stairs. With Donna covering, Ed eased open the door to the ground level floor. He peered around the open-space but all was silent. There was some evidence of the rapid departure of the personnel, papers scattered on the floor, the faint smell of burnt coffee and a large pot plant that had been upturned, the soil trampled into the carpet. "Clear!" he whispered indicating to Donna to move to the next floor.

They checked out the next floor and paused at the door to the third. "Spike?"

Spike and Lou squatted by the door in their stairwell at the opposite end of the building. Spike slid the end of the fibre-optic camera under the door. He swivelled it up and the two men peered at the screen. "No one in sight. No booby-trap on the door. Going in." Spike pulled out the camera and Lou reached for the handle and slowly pulled it down. He carefully inched the door open and looked around. The large open space stank of fresh paint and new carpet. There were a number of brand new desks and chairs still wrapped in cellophane stacked against one wall. But most of the space was empty. Their attention was attracted by the large grey plastic boxes attached to every support column with duct tape.

Spike frowned and turned to Lou. "I going to check these out. Get Ed and Donna." Lou nodded and carefully crossed the room. He checked the door to the other stairwell but there was no booby-trap so he let Ed and Donna in. Donna's eyes opened wide when she saw the boxes taped to the columns.

Quietly all three joined Spike who was carefully cutting the tape to one of the boxes and easing off the cover. Ed looked at him incredulously. "Should you be doing that?" he whispered knowing that normally the situation warranted only one person within range of an explosive device.

"No choice. We have to see what we're dealing with," Spike answered coolly, his forehead creased in concentration. He used the tip of his multi-tool to prise off the lid. It came loose and he opened it out like he was opening a book, the tape on the left holding the lid in place. "Oh shit, he wasn't bluffing!"

"Whoa!" hissed Lou, his eyes bulging at the sight of the block of plastic wrapped explosive inside. "That's a lot of plastic. I thought you said that there were no reports of stolen Semtex." Spike shrugged and looked apologetic.

Greg's voice echoed in their ears. _"Talk to me Spike."_

Spike studied the mechanism. "Okay it's a relatively simple mechanism. There's about a pound of Semtex." He pointed to a small green-grey box that had two tiny LED lights. One was lit. "There's a short-range radio receiver. It's linked to a battery pack." He indicated the wires with the tip of his knife. "In turn it's linked to the detonator. It's pretty straightforward to disarm."

"_How long?"_

"Two to three minutes," answered Spike as he looked around the room. "But there's sixteen altogether so about forty to forty five minutes in all."

They could hear Greg hiss. _"We don't have that amount of time. Our deadline for the press conference is in less than thirty minutes."_

"Spike, what's involved in disarming this thing?" Ed asked.

Spike pointed at the receiver. "Easy. I need to cut first the green wire and then the orange. That disables the receiver unit. Then the two blue wires and then remove the detonator. Simple."

Ed nodded. "Green wire. Orange wire. Blue Wires. Detonator. Got it?" He looked at Lou and Donna. Donna's jaw dropped. Lou did a perfect impression of a goldfish.

Spike gaped at Ed. "Are you serious? That's against protocol."

"If you've got any other suggestion, I'm all ears."

Greg piped up. _"What are you suggesting Ed?"_

"Sixteen columns. Four of us. Four bombs each. Fifteen minutes tops."

A few muffled expletives came over the headset. _"Spike. Threat level?"_

"None as long as we cut the wires in the right order and Captain Ahab doesn't send the radio signal."

Ed rubbed his face. "Greg. We don't have a lot of choice and we're running out of time."

"I agree," piped up Donna much to the other's surprise. "It's the only option."

"We can do this," affirmed Lou. Spike hissed through his teeth making a sound of disapproval but didn't say anything. "Come on Spike, there's no way you can do this on your own and there's no way we can get out of range anyway. We're stuck here so we might as well as do this."

Ed nodded. "Lou's right. What about it Greg?" There was a moment's silence. They could picture the Sarge pacing up and down the command truck.

"_All right. Do it!"_

Spike nodded grimly. "Okay watch carefully!" He gave them a demonstration, his fingers swift and sure. Then he turned to Ed, Lou and Donna. "Green. Orange. Blue. Detonator. Got it?" They nodded. " Donna, finish up here. Lou, take first four columns. I'll take the next. Ed the last set."

.

Wordy stared at Greg in disbelief. "Okay this is the officially the strangest situation I have ever encountered."

Parker had to agree. He was going to be crucified by top brass for this if anything went wrong. He had four members in proximity to sixteen explosive devices. It wasn't just breaking protocol. It was taking it, crushing it and grinding it into oblivion. He had been convinced that Curtis Melville had been bluffing. There had been no reports of stolen Semtex. Up until today the man calling himself Captain Ahab had no history of violence, nor had the other two men they had identified though there were still two unknown members of the hostage taking team.

Wordy's voice penetrated his thoughts. "What are we going to do?"

Greg pulled a face. He needed to buy his team more time. "Well normally, I would say we don't give in to terrorist demands but I think this may be the exception to the rule!" He pulled himself from his chair. "Let's go talk to the press."

.

**A/N : I know absolutely NOTHING about bombs or bomb-making so all errors in this chapter are mine. If there are any experts out there, feel free to put me right. Question : Do bomb-making experts read fanfiction? Answers on a postcard please. ;-)**


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Veronica Pelham was livid. She watched as Sergeant Gregory Parker accompanied by another member of the SRU spoke with Sean Peters who, together with his cameraman accompanied them to the command truck. They were getting preferential treatment and she was left stuck outside the police cordon. He really had it in for her. She had to somehow turn this around and find a new angle, anything to get some decent footage.

Sean Peters and his cameraman Ben were watching Greg intently as he had a one-sided conversation with one of his team. "Okay Sam, you got it? … Great. Let me know as soon as you have the solution. If there's any threat you know what to do … You sure you're not frozen to death?" Sean Peters eyebrows lifted. Poor guy, he thought to himself. He had had trouble keeping warm waiting around earlier and was glad of a few minutes warmth inside the mobile command unit. If they had a man out there he was well hidden. He'd studied the whole layout carefully and he hadn't seen a soul. His attention was drawn back to Greg who gave a short sharp laugh. "Don't tell me. Naked in the snow? Okay thanks Sam." Sean threw Greg a puzzled look. Greg smiled. "One of my guys. Ex special forces. Apparently this is nothing compared to cold weather training."

"Special forces huh? Those guys have got to be a little crazy, if you know what I mean?"

Greg nodded. "You'd better believe it, threw himself on top of a concussion grenade once to save a fellow agent." Greg smiled again. "He's a good kid. Now are you sure about this?"

"Absolutely. I know the risks. So does Ben!" Ben nodded resolutely. "Just tell us what to do."

A phone began to ring. Wordy looked up. "It's him. Showtime."

.

Donna had decided that the last fifteen minutes had been the most nerve-wracking of her life. She was however feeling quite pleased with herself for having single-handedly disarmed three bombs as she crouched with Ed and Lou on the stairs watching as Spike slipped the fibre optic camera under the door. She felt a new-found admiration for the self-confessed geek. He had to do that all of the time and often alone in the most difficult of circumstances. She had to admire his professionalism and his courage.

"Here they come," Spike whispered. They all peered at the screen. The corridor beyond was full of people. Ed scanned the number of people. "Okay Greg. It looks like they're all coming down via the elevators. Each hostage is accompanied by one of the men but ..." Ed shook his head in surprise. "...it doesn't look like they're being coerced. The hostages are cooperating and our guys are armed but their weapons are lowered."

"_Copy that Ed. Follow discretely and wait for my signal."_

"Got it." Ed nodded to Spike who pulled back the camera and stowed it in his pack. Quietly they made their way back down the west staircase. They waited by the doors on the lower level. Spike got the camera out again. As Lou inched the door open Spike positioned the camera as high as he could to see over the cubicles that formed the open space beyond. They watched as two by two hostage and hostage-taker exited the elevators and headed towards the entrance doors. "Okay let's go." Keeping low Ed headed out into the open space and crouched down behind one of the cubicles. Silently he crept to the next cubicle. He was followed rapidly by the others, one at a time, Spike taking last place as he took him a few seconds to stow his camera in his pack. They wound their way towards the main doors, each taking a spot by a cubicle a few feet from the doors. "Alpha, Bravo teams in place." Ed whispered.

"_Copy. Hold positions, Alpha, Bravo. Sam?"_

"_I have the solution. No threat."_

.

Sam was glad to finally see some action. Despite his boasts the cold was beginning to get to him. His heat packs were virtually out and his feet were beginning to numb. He kept wiggling his toes and flexing his muscles. He had taken several very short breaks when things were quiet to stretch his muscles and warm himself by doing press-ups. Now his eye was fixed on his scope, the cross-hairs on his target Curtis Melville aka Captain Ahab. He had headed outside with the red-headed communications manager Jean Watson walking towards the Sarge and Wordy who, both armed with ballistic shields, were standing in front of a reporter and a cameraman. The others remained in a line a little way behind them, hostages standing in front of their captors perfectly framed under the makeshift banner that read 'Justice'. So far all guns were pointed to the ground.

"_I have the solution. No threat!"_

.

Jean Watson was an elegant woman. She had shoulder length auburn hair complemented by a deep blue suit. She stepped forward, looked straight at the camera and lifted a sheet of paper. Greg frowned, surprised as he realized she was the one who was going to read the statement.

Curtis Melville stared at Greg. "I don't want to hurt anyone Sergeant Parker. I just want this statement read out."

"I understand that Sir and we want the same as you but you are armed and you have made threats. I know everyone will be a lot more comfortable if you could place your weapon on the ground."

Melville stared at Greg for a moment. "As a show of goodwill I will comply with your wishes but my companions will keep theirs until the statement is read. Then we are all willing to give ourselves up." Greg considered the man in front of him for a moment. He had shed his hat and hoodie. Greg put him in his early sixties; he had short greying hair, and an earnest expression though his eyes looked tired. They were deeply lined and had deep shadows beneath them. "I understand that you can't give in to terrorist demands which is why Miss Watson here has agreed to read a statement to the press on our behalf. Please Sergeant Parker, let her do this. It is the only way." Again Greg detected just a hint of desperation in the man's voice.

Greg gave a short nod. Slowly Melville placed his gun on the ground and stood up straight, his hands stretched out showing them to be empty. Behind him the other men remained fixed, their weapons in their hands, but the muzzles pointed towards the ground next to their hostages. Greg scanned the faces of the men. They were all older men most well into their sixties. One even looked well over seventy. They appeared wary but not not overly nervous. The hostages all seemed relaxed and completely unfazed by what was happening, their eyes fixed on Jean Watson, their expressions expectant and serious. A brief movement from inside the building told Greg that Alpha and Bravo teams were now positioned behind the four gunmen on either side of the doorway. A series of whispers in his headset told him that they had them covered. Greg nodded as though in approval. He smiled. "Miss Watson?"

Jean Watson smiled back, perfectly relaxed as if this was an everyday occurrence and that they weren't four armed men behind her. "Okay … er … do I just start?"

Sean Peters smiled, "If you would just say a few words, introduce yourself? Give Ben here a chance to set the focus and the sound level..." He stretched out a hand holding a microphone past Greg.

"This is going out live?" Melville glared at him grimly.

"It will be, there's a mandatory three minute delay on the feed for our scheduler to sync the reports and then we're live." Greg had to admire Peters' calm. He lied well. Jean Watson said a few a words. Peters nodded in approval. "We good Ben?" Ben answered in the affirmative. "Right in three … two … one … This is Sean Peters for TN Twenty -four news coming to you live from outside the harbour management authority building which has been the focus of attention today as a number of protesters have been occupying the building. I am currently here with one of them Mr Curtis Melville and an employee of the harbour management authority." He nodded to Jean Watson.

She was clearly used to being filmed. She smiled directly at the camera. "My name is Jean Watson. I am the head of communications and public relations for the harbour management authority. Over the past three hours my colleagues and I have been looking into allegations of gross misconduct, mismanagement of authority funds and fraud brought to light by Mr Melville and his associates. We are satisfied that they have provided us with sufficient evidence to this effect and we are immediately calling for a full investigation into the actions of the CEO and the members of the board. We have in our possession documents that prove that substantial sums of money have been diverted from the authority funds into off-shore accounts. In addition, we believe that the recent actions of the board of directors including the dismissal of a number of key personnel were not only immoral but illegal. It is our belief that a number of police officers were involved in the fabrication of charges against the leaders of the protests and we are calling on the commissioner to look into this matter immediately." Jean Watson took a deep breath and lowered her paper. "I wish it to be known that despite the tactics used this afternoon, none of my colleagues or I wish to file charges against these men. They are only interested in justice, justice for their sons, grandsons and nephews. At no time did they hurt us or coerce us into any action, and I and my colleagues will do everything in our power to assist them until the truth is uncovered."

Greg and the members of Team One listened in astonishment to her statement.

Curtis Melville looked at the camera, his stormy grey eyes the colour of the water surrounding them. Greg could see the sadness, and the frustration and the anger. "I do not regret my actions this day if it will help bring the truth to light. I love my son and he, and a lot of good men and women, were forced out of their jobs, some of them out of their homes. And for what?" He raised an arm pointing towards the sign that hung from the crane. "Harbour Management Authority. Working for You? The only people that the senior executives are working for are themselves … and my son and his friends, his colleagues, his co-workers have been cast aside so these men can feather their own nests. All we are asking for is justice."

Greg placed a hand on Sean Peter's arm. "Thank you Miss Watson, Mr Melville. And now back to the studio." He gave a brief flick of his head and Ben stopped the recording.

Greg looked at Melville who seemed to be hesitating, his eyes nervously flicking between them. Greg took a deep breath. "Are we good? Now can we bring this to an end? Please ask your men to lay down their weapons." Melville turned his head around and looked at the men behind him. On the far right of the group, the assistant financial director James Mills was staring intently at his phone cupped discretely in his left hand. Slowly he raised his eyes to look at Melville and shook his head.

Curtis Melville spun round to glare at Greg, his face a mask of anger. "You sonofabitch! You lied! That didn't go out live ..." Suddenly he grabbed for Jean Watson pulling her in front of him. At the same time his hand went to his waistband. "I trusted you and you played me!" he screamed raising his fist that was clamped around a small box. "Well you may not be broadcasting live but they are ..." He gestured to the entrance gate where Veronica Pelham and several other news crews were standing cameras pointed at them, clearly frustrated at being kept at a distance. The two men stared at one another each knowing that they had an ace up their sleeve. It was almost as if Curtis was daring Greg.

"All teams go," Greg whispered, his eyes remaining focussed on Curtis. "It's over," he stated quietly as shouts of "Police! Drop your weapons!" echoed across the open space between them as Ed, Donna, Spike and Lou who sprinted straight for the four men, each of them with their weapon raised, aiming directly at the four hostage-takers.

Curtis Melville stared defiantly at Greg for a brief second, his lips curling into a feral smile and he said, "No it isn't!" Then he pressed the button.

.

The explosion was deafening. It cracked through the air like lightning accompanied by a thunderous vibration that shook the ground beneath their feet. Everyone in the vicinity instinctively ducked for cover. The five men twisted their heads round to look in amazement behind them not only surprised to see the four SRU officers sprinting from the entrance but to discover that the building showed no signs of destruction. One of the hostage-takers managed to open his mouth to utter, "What the .." as he stared in incomprehension. "Why didn't they go off? I was so careful."

As Ed and the others ran out their steps faltered, their attention caught by the gigantic fireball that rose into the air behind the Portakabins. It suddenly seemed like time had stopped. They ground to a halt staring in horror as the ball of flames engulfed the crane. It was followed by what seemed to be an interminable absence of sound though in reality it was only a matter of milliseconds before an ear-splitting wrenching of metal filled the air. As if in slow-motion the crane began to tilt and twist, the bending of the iron struts sounding like the scream of a primeval beast.

The eyes of everyone present were glued to the scene as the crane tipped over backwards, the crash of metal hitting the breakwater combining with a splash as it hit the surface of the lake.

A terrible silence followed broken only by one single anguished cry.

"SAM!"

.

A/N: Yes Smuffly of course the Semtex was real ... you know me, any excuse to blow something up and write exciting rescue scenes!


	7. Chapter 6

**A/N: A big thank you to everyone who has reviewed/PMed/favorited/followed this story. Guests, I would answer you individually if I could.**

**Chapter 6**

Jules was glad that Carmen chose to take a break from the movie in order to finish off cooking lunch. She subtly turned back to the news channels to see if there was any progress on the portlands scene where she knew Team One were stationed. She stopped on a Channel 24 where an acid blond was speaking to camera indicating the scene behind her. Jules tried to peer past her where she could just about see a stand-off between a man and woman and two SRU officers protecting what looked liked to be a reporter and a cameraman. _Greg and Wordy_, she thought to herself.

"_...where one of the presumed hostages is reading out a statement. It is our belief that the situation here is related to the series of protests about the recent jobs cuts at the authority. As you can see the hostage-takers have now exited the building and negotiations are under way for a full surrender. Local police are taking up positions behind the cars as I speak..."_

Jules tuned the woman's words out as she spotted Ed, accompanied by Donna, Lou and Spike, burst out of the doors behind the hostages. Suddenly the camera wobbled as a loud rumbling filled the speakers, the presenter's voice screeching:

"_What was that? There's … there's been an explosion ..."_

The camera righted itself and swiveled to the right to show a row of Portakabins and behind it a fireball rising into the air.

"_Oh … the crane. It's just exploded. It's engulfed in flames. The crane that the heritage foundation decided to leave as a reminder of the harbour's historical significance ..."_ The presenter broke off as a terrible screeching filled the air. _"It's going to collapse … the explosion has ripped through the old metal structure and it's collapsing in front of our eyes … Nick get this ..."_ The camera wobbled and bounced as if the cameraman were moving quickly to his right. The image jiggled and then steadied to focus on the crane as it fell in an arc to connect with the water. "_It has collapsed into the water … oh my goodness … a violent explosion has caused the complete destruction of the crane. Thank goodness it fell into the water. It could have been catastrophic if it had fallen the other way … as it happens it looks like no one was harmed."_

Jules was frozen to the spot, her eyes glued to the screen in front of her. _No. No. No. He probably wasn't up there. He'll be with the others or in the truck._ Jules tried to desperately to convince herself although the logical part of her mind was screaming that that was where Sierra One would be and Sierra One could only be one person. Frustrated by the presenter's irritating babble, she grabbed for the remote control to switch to the other channels to see if they were showing something different. "He's fine. He's fine."

"Who?" Carmen appeared by her shoulder looking down at her friend's distraught face. "Jules? What's wrong?"

Jules hadn't realized she had spoken aloud. She looked up at Carmen as she whispered. "Sam!"

.

_Four pounds!_

For a moment Spike was overcome with the scene unfolding before his eyes. Words echoed in his head. _'The third floor has been wired with twenty pounds of Semtex … sixteen pillars … sixteen bombs … sixteen pounds … four pounds missing ... why hadn't he thought of that? Why?'_ He watched in horror as the crane slowly disappeared from sight taking with it his friend. "SAM!" Before he knew what he was doing, he was sprinting across the yard, his boots thumping into the hard ground as he headed for the gap between the perimeter fencing and the Portakabins, Sam's last words echoing in his mind. '_I have the solution. No threat.'_

_Four pounds!_

Behind him, Ed was shouting at the men to get on the ground. Uniformed officers were running in all directions, some towards the Portakabins, others towards the hostages. Spike was oblivious to it all. He had to see for himself. '_The third floor has been wired with twenty pounds of Semtex … four pounds missing … why hadn't he thought of that? Stupid, stupid, stupid._'

_SAM_!

Spike rounded the corner and clambered up the side of the breakwater onto the flat piece of land that formed the water's edge. He stopped short, his breath coming in short sharp gasps as he surveyed the scene. Long, jagged bits of metal thrust up out of the ground twisted into nightmarish forms like wizened fingers reaching for the sky. The body of the crane lay at an angle braced between the breakwater and the bottom of the narrow length of water that was once been a slip for tall ships that traded at the port. The water was churned up a muddy brown colour, full of silt. Even as he stood, the carcass of the crane gave a shudder as if in the last throes of death and slipped a little further into the water as though pulled by some unseen hand.

Spike screamed. "SAM!" He scanned the water as if expecting the young former soldier to suddenly pop up and start swimming for shore but the surface of the water remained unbroken, the last ripples caused by the mass of metal fading away to mingle with the tiny waves that the wind sent scudding across the water's surface.

He couldn't move. His heart pounded in his chest. The blood rushed in his ears blocking out all sound. Suddenly as though someone had flipped a switch shouts behind him caught his attention. He could hear Ed and Wordy calling his name. He found himself turning towards them. Both men accompanied by three uniformed officers were all scrambling up the incline to join him. "I can't see him," he wailed his voice cracking with desperation. "He's gone."

.

As soon as Ed heard Spike's shout he yelled at the men to lie on the ground who complied immediately. Covered by Donna and Lou, he removed their weapons as uniformed officers came to cuff them. He looked up as Lou spoke, his voice breaking slightly. "Ed we got this, go! Go find Sam!" Ed looked at Donna who nodded firmly. He acknowledged them with a tight-lipped smile and turned around to see Wordy and Greg, their side-arms drawn, towering over the man calling himself Captain Ahab. A now terrified-looking Jean Watson was stood staring in disbelief with the reporter and cameraman. Melville was on his knees looking up at them in incomprehension. "There was someone up there? There wasn't supposed to be anyone up there. I had to make you take me seriously. I didn't mean for anyone to get hurt. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Ed caught Greg's eye. The Sarge looked pale. He could see the guilt in his eyes. Ed felt his stomach clench. They had taken a risk with four of them entering the building and disarming the bombs but they had been so focused on that and making sure that the reporter and his cameraman came to no harm that they hadn't considered for a moment that the gunmen could have planted other bombs.

"Ed?" Greg's voice penetrated his thoughts. "Go with Spike. Wordy, you too. Find our boy."

Spurred into action they took off after Spike as fast as they could leaving Greg to put the cuffs on a contrite Curtis Melville who kept repeating that they hadn't wanted to harm anyone. In the few seconds that it took them to join Spike they could already see that the last of the smoke from the explosion dispersing in the air to be carried away by the wind. The cold seemed to penetrate through their clothes as they stared into the water.

"He's gone." Spike's distress was palpable. But Ed wasn't giving up so easily. He ran over to the remnants of the crane and put down his weapon. He pulled off his vest and discarded that along with the heavy jacket, his side-arm and the hip-pouches. He didn't need to turn around to know that the other two men were following suit. He shivered as he stripped off the warm jacket but he ignored it and headed towards the water's edge where the crane lay partially immersed.

"Ed?" Ed turned around as a voice shouted at him. He recognized Becker, his long beige raincoat flapping around his legs as he ran. In his hands, he carried an orange ring with a rope attached. Ed realized that he must have plucked it from a stand just the other side of the crane. "Take this." Becker ran up him, handing him the lifebuoy. Ed nodded and hoisted it over his shoulder. Stepping up onto the crane, he carefully tested it's solidity. "Careful, it could slip further!" Ed slowly picked his way along one of the struts of the crane. Oddly the blackened metal seemed warm under his hands. As he approached the water's edge the struts beneath him shuddered slightly and he felt the whole structure tremble. It moved slightly but held. Ed took a deep breath and slid into the water. He couldn't help a gasp as the cold hit him. His heart began to pound and his lungs constricted. He forced himself to calm his breathing and his heart-rate as the cold penetrated his body. He took a deep breath filling his lungs and plunged beneath the surface feeling his way along the structure.

In his mind's eye he could see Sam's Sierra position. If he followed the strut down he should find him if … if Sam hadn't floated away. _Were there currents here?_ _Could he have been pulled further down? What if he was crushed beneath the weight of the crane?_ Ed pushed himself along until the surface beneath his hand felt different. It was smooth and felt like plastic. The banner. He blinked in the obscurity but was forced to keep closing his eyes as the silt stirred up in the water made them sting. He could feel the pressure building up in his chest. He blew out a few bubbles to ease the tightness in his chest. He felt around blindly hampered by the lifebuoy. Reluctantly he let it go deciding it was better to search with two hands. He pulled himself along the jib. Suddenly his hand touched something else. Soft material. His lungs were screaming for oxygen, the blood was pounding in his head. He grasped the material and blinked his eyes open but he could barely see in the muddied waters. However, his fingers told a different story. It was the material of a jacket. He pulled but it steadfastly refused to budge. His lungs could take it no more. He pushed himself away and headed for the surface.

The moment he broke the surface he gasped for breath. He could hear shouting but he had no idea what they were saying. Next to him the orange ring bobbed up and down. He grasped for it trying to catch his breath as he turned his face to the shore where Wordy and Spike were balanced on the upturned crane. "He's here. Help me!" Being the nearest Wordy plunged into the water beside him. "He's stuck."

Ed heard Wordy gasp beside him, "I've got a light, bring the lifebuoy!" And without further ado Wordy dove beneath the surface. Ed took another huge breath and headed after him dragging the lifebuoy down with him. He risked opening his eyes and spotted the light a little below him. He pulled harder but he could feel his energy sapping, the cold draining all force from him. He knew they couldn't remain long in the icy water. Suddenly he felt another hand on his arm. He opened his eyes to see Wordy right in front of him. Wordy pointed the flash-light down and Ed could see the outline of a body jammed between the struts. Swapping places, Ed reached in through one strut and grabbed a handful of jacket pushing as Wordy pulled. Something was stopping them. Ed blinked desperately to see what it was. He reached out with a hand and felt a long slim barrel. The Remington. It was still wedged through the gap in the spurs. He grabbed and pulled flinging it away. Then once more he grabbed a handful of material and pushed. He felt it being pulled from his hand as Wordy dragged Sam out through the gap in the struts.

Together they positioned Sam between them and gripped onto the lifebuoy. As one they kicked for the surface, the orange flotation device helping them. A cacophony of noise hit them as they broke the surface. Both men felt themselves being pulled along. Ed looked up to see a group of men at the edge of the breakwater all hauling on the rope. Within a few seconds it seemed that dozens of hands were reaching down to drag them from the water. Ed was exhausted. It was all he could do to help them lift his body from the water. He sat in a useless heap shivering as some unknown person wrapped a silver survival blanket around him telling him he needed to get out of the wet clothes. It took him a few minutes to gather his wits. With the help of his unknown guardian he struggled to his feet and walked over to where two dozen people were gathered around Sam. Wordy was kneeling beside them looking utterly drained.

The only words that reached his ears were, "No pulse."

.


	8. Chapter 7

**A/N: Thank you all so much for the lovely reviews. As I mentioned to one reviewer I write for fun, so it is really nice to hear that you are enjoying the story so far. Guests, I would thank you individually if I could.**

**Chapter 7**

Carl Brunetti, an intense young man with classic good-looks and an endearing smile, sat with his partner Dave in the heated cab of the ambulance some distance away as the events unfolded inside the perimeter. They had been on standby for an hour now ready to receive injuries from the potential hostage situation. They were prepared to deal with shock and possible bullet wounds. They had been warned that there were explosives on site so they had to keep their distance until called. They couldn't believe their eyes when an explosion took out the crane. They had been expecting any explosions to come from the main building in the distance. Carl jumped as the radio crackled. Dave reached for the radio and acknowledged the call. Both men stared at each other as the dispatcher told them to proceed to the waterfront. "Possible SRU officer involved."

Dave glanced at Carl as he started the engine. "You reckon they had someone up there? I mean on the crane?"

"Yeah … yeah maybe." A sudden thought struck him. "Oh Lord, I hope it's not Sam."

Dave's head flicked up. "You know someone from SRU?" he asked surprised as he headed towards the main gate.

"Not really … I … er … only met him this morning … at the … er … you know!" Dave grinned at his friend's embarrassment. "He was there representing SRU. His first time too." Carl smiled at the memory. "Actually he was amazing. He cracked some jokes. You know put everyone at their ease. Even volunteered to go first ..." He broke off as a police officer waved to them indicating to drive past the line of Portakabins. In the distance another officer was gesturing wildly at them. "He said he used to be in the army ... special forces … guess they're used to that kind of thing. Not so many inhibitions ..." He broke off again, feeling his cheeks flush with embarrassment as Dave laughed at his young colleague.

"Okay, it looks like we're here ..." Both men peered out the screen to see a dozen or more people surrounding something or someone lying on the ground. "Go … and Carl ..." Carl paused with his hand on the door. "I hope it's not your friend."

Carl sprang out of the cab dragging his bag after him as Dave positioned the ambulance and hopped out to open up the back and pull out the gurney. The paramedic's long legs quickly carried him over to the group. "Some space please people." A few people moved out of the way but one man with something slung over his shoulder remained where he was. Carl felt a ball of anger form as he realized he was a cameraman. A blond woman was urging him forward. "Move back … get them out of here ..." Carl broke off as his patient came into view. Somehow he had known. He had hoped he wasn't right but some deep down intuition had told him. "Oh sweet Lord! Sam!"

The two men wearing SRU uniforms and kneeling by their colleague looked up at him in surprise. The older of the two with small metal-framed glasses was clearly struggling to keep it together. "No pulse. He's not breathing. We've performed two rounds of CPR." The man sounded almost breathless as he removed his hands from Sam's chest.

Carl quelled his shock and dropped to his knees opening his kit with automated movements. "How long was he in the water?"

"Five ... maybe ten minutes." Carl didn't look up but he could hear something in the man's voice. Fear and also something else.

Pulling out a pen light he performed a quick visual. Pale skin, blue lips, no eye movements, a nasty gash to the forehead along the hairline. He checked the airways and pulled out a stethoscope. As he listened he felt Sam's skin. Cold. Too cold. He grabbed a thermometer. As soon as it beeped he grimaced. "He's hypothermic. We gotta go now. "

"But he has no pulse." This came from the other man kneeling at Sam's head. Carl could see the worry in his eyes.

Carl remained calm speaking firmly despite the ball of panic that had formed in his stomach. "Severely hypothermic patients show marked depression of brain and cardiovascular function. Full resuscitation is possible but only if we get him out of these wet clothes and get his core temperature up. We can't do that here. Understood." The man nodded. "Now help me!" Carl looked around at the officers. "We need to go now. Everybody help lift him. Keep him horizontal. No brusque movements." Several officers moved at once to position themselves either side of Sam. "On my mark, three, two, one, lift!".

As they lifted Dave pushed the gurney underneath Sam. They all headed for the ambulance. Greg put a hand on Spike's shoulder. "Go with him." Spike nodded dumbly and climbed in after Carl. Greg watched them leave, his heart sinking. He felt a presence at his shoulder. He turned to see Ed and Wordy both wrapped in silver rescue blankets.

Ed shook his head. "Don't do this."

Greg ran a hand down his face. "I shouldn't have ..."

Wordy interrupted him. "Shouldn't have, wouldn't have, couldn't have … anticipated that! It's not your fault."

"He's right Greg. Don't beat yourself up."

Donna and Lou walked up to them, their faces grim. "Sam?"

The Sarge sighed. "He was hypothermic. We couldn't find a pulse. He didn't appear to be breathing ..." Words failed him as he couldn't get the image of their youngest team member out of his mind. "His lips were blue," he stammered, his voice cracking.

Ed took charge. He looked at Donna and Lou. "The scene closed? Suspects in custody?" They nodded. "Come on. Let's get back to the barn, get changed. Spike's with him. He'll call and let us know." Reluctantly they all agreed knowing they had to debrief and that Holleran would want to know what the hell had happened especially after Jules' recent brush with death.

As they turned around they came face to face with Veronica Pelham and her cameraman, a thin-faced man with a straggly goatee. The camera was still turning. Ed threw off the blanket and walked straight up to them and pushed a hand onto the camera forcing Nick to point it to the ground. "Turn that thing off," he growled.

"Hey, you can't …." Nick broke off swallowing heavily as he caught the fierce look in Ed's eyes. "Yeah, right … right."

"You have no right!" Veronica began haughtily. "People have the right to see what is going on."

Ed rounded on her. "What's going on?" He pointed back towards the crane. "That's not a what! That's a who. His name is Sam. He's someone's son. Someone's brother. Someone's friend. A good man and a valued member of our team. So … show … some … respect!" he spat. Veronica paled at the emotion in his face. She backed away slightly but tried to put on a brave face. She was about to answer back when Sean Peters suddenly appeared with Ben. He stepped in and grabbed her arm.

"He's right! Enough Veronica!" She turned to stare at him as though astonished that he dare challenge her. "You've gone too far!" She shook him off but Peters just stared at her in disgust. "You really are a cold-blooded bitch!"

.

Jules felt as though she were suffocating. Lunch had been completely abandoned as Carmen sat with her watching Channel 24 news. No sooner had they shown the crane collapse than the reporter, a blond woman with an irritatingly high-pitched voice squealed as a man ran past shouting someone's name.

"This is unbelievable," she had gushed as though getting a kick out of it. "It looks as though an SRU officer was positioned on top of the crane. There is no sign of anyone in the water. I don't know whether anyone can survive a fall like that."

Jules watched in utter shock as the television images jumped about as the reporter and the cameraman pushed their way past and headed for the water's edge. People seemed to be milling everywhere. She tried to tune out the voice and just concentrate on what she could see. _Should she phone the barn? Perhaps she could call the Sarge or one of the others?_ Jules couldn't think. She felt paralysed. All she was able do was watch uselessly. She glimpsed Lou frog-marching a dejected-looking suspect towards a police car, the Sarge with another man in cuffs, then Ed and Wordy running up to Spike before all three headed towards the stricken crane to begin stripping off their Kevlar.

"_There is definitely someone in the water. It looks as though officers are preparing to plunge into the icy waters to search for him ..."_

A little voice in her head replaced with words with 'retrieve his body'. _Could he survive that?_ The images from the TV fed her imagination. Sam trapped. Sam drowning. Sam dead. The irritating woman rattled on making Jules want to throttle her, refusing to leave even when confronted by a police officer. Jules could do nothing but watch in horror as Ed resurfaced before diving once more with Wordy. Suddenly a shout went up.

A little ray of hope had fluttered in her heart as Ed and Wordy appeared with Sam in their clutches. She watched with bated breath as a dozen or so officers all reached down to pull them from the water. But hope died as the cameraman got closer and closer to the action and showed the Sarge and Spike desperately performing CPR until a paramedic arrived and they transferred him to an ambulance.

Then he was gone.

Sam. Gone.

"I have to know."

Carmen turned to her friend. "What?"

"I have to know. Take me to the hospital."

"But Jules ..."

"Take me to the hospital!" Jules practically screamed.

Carmen, shocked by her friend's reaction, merely nodded. "Okay. I'll get our things."

.

Spike sat in the waiting room, his head in his hands. He was numb. He couldn't think any more. He had no idea how much time had passed or how long he had been sitting there. The ride from the port lands had been a little under ten minutes, Dave driving as fast as he could. The ride had been a flurry of activity as they literally cut the clothes off Sam, wincing at the livid bruises on his pale skin. Spike had almost thrown up at the sight of his shoulder sticking out at a strange angle until Carl assured him it looked like a simple dislocation probably caused by Sam hanging on as the crane fell and that it was the least of Sam's problems. Carl had started a heated IV, wrapping him in warm blankets with heat packs, while Spike pushed warmed air into his lungs as the ambulance sped through the streets. Then suddenly they arrived and Sam was whisked away. A nurse had shown him to a waiting room and there he sat. Waiting.

He jumped as his phone rattled in his pocket. He fished it out and looked at the caller ID. His momma. He answered the call trying to sound as normal as possible and told her he was fine. She'd seen it on TV. "I don't know how he is ... I don't even know if he's ..." He couldn't finish. "He was hypothermic. So cold he looked like he was dead." He felt tears burn the back of his eyes. "Yeah I'll call you. I promise."

"Spike?"

He sprang to his feet. "Jules! What are you doing here?"

"I saw it on TV … is he?" She put her hand over her mouth. "He's not ..."

"I don't know. I just don't know..."

They looked at one anyone for a few minutes neither able to speak. Then they both sat. "What happened Spike?"

Spike shook his head. "We screwed up. We got into the building and disarmed the explosives. They came out with the hostages and the Sarge set up a fake interview pretending to meet the guys' demands for a live broadcast but the hostages were sympathetic to the hostage-takers. One of them was monitoring the TV and told him that the interview hadn't gone out live. That's when he lost it and set off the explosives. We were so sure of ourselves. We'd disarmed the bombs and then when I saw the … explosion … the crane. I should have known Jules. He said he had twenty pounds of explosives but there were only sixteen bombs ..."

"You disarmed … sixteen bombs?" Jules asked incredulous.

Spike looked uncomfortable. "We took four each, me, Ed, Lou and Donna." He ran a hand down his face at her gasp. "Yeah, I know – it was against protocol. I should have known then. There were four pounds missing. I never dreamed that they'd go for the crane too. What a shambles!"

Jules sighed trying desperately to gain a measure of control over her emotions. She could almost feel the guilt rolling off him. "Spike, you did good. The hostages are safe, the suspects are in custody. You couldn't have foreseen that."

"Yeah, I know. What if he doesn't make it Jules?"

Jules didn't answer. She didn't want to go there.

.

A/N: I know. I know I'm leaving you in suspense ... again! Don't shoot me! Please note the absence of tragedy as a category for this story. Conclusion tomorrow. Promise.


	9. Chapter 8

**A/N: Thank you all so much for your messages of support. I am so glad that you have been enjoying the story. Here is the conclusion and epilogue and Dear Guests, worry ye not, I never kill off the heroes of my stories. I just make them suffer a little! ;-)**

**Chapter 8**

The atmosphere in the briefing room was sombre. The five remaining members of Team One sat around the table, each lost in their thoughts. They had been so close to a successful outcome. The explosives neutralized, the hostages safe, the hostage-takers clearly prepared to give themselves up and then somehow in the space of a few seconds it had all gone wrong.

Holleran paced the room looking through the transcript. He was less than pleased and he made his dissatisfaction known by little snorts of disapproval every time he flicked at a page.

The cell phone on the conference table buzzed. Greg snatched it like his life depended on it. "Spike?" He listened for a few minutes his head buried in hand so that no one could read his face. "I'll be there as soon as I can," he whispered as he ended the call. The tension in the room was thick as he looked up. No one hardly dared to breathe.

His face broke into a smile. "Sam … bloody ...tastic!"

Ed's jaw dropped as the others gasped. "He's … okay?"

Greg nodded. "They managed to revive him. His condition is still serious but he's responding well to treatment. Spike's going to see him shortly."

Wordy just sat there with a look of utter stupefaction on his face. "Un … be … lievable!"

Lou laughed nervously. "I knew he'd make it!" he stated though he didn't sound quite so convinced.

Donna was stunned. "I guess all that army cold weather training paid off!"

"Either that or the miracle of modern medicine ..." Holleran offered. Even he couldn't help smiling at the good news. So soon after nearly losing one officer he couldn't bear the thought of losing another one. "Well at least that is one phone call I don't have to make!" As Team One looked at him. "I wasn't looking forward to phoning General Braddock to tell him that we got his son blown up and drowned at the same time!" He looked around at his team, sighing at the fatigue in their faces. He took pity on them. "Go!" he ordered. "Get out of here. I can't say that there won't be repercussions from some of the actions that took place today but right now, I'm satisfied that you did everything you could. Now go home."

.

Spike was on a caffeine high. He had been positively buzzing ever since Carl Brunetti had walked through the doors of the waiting room to tell him that the medical team had got Sam back. Jules had thrown her arms around him and they had just sat there scarcely able to believe the news.

Carl had assured Spike that he had told the doctors that he was waiting and that someone would be out to speak with him as soon as they could. He thought that they would be able to see Sam as soon as they had him stabilized and moved to a room. This, however, had taken far longer than Spike had anticipated. Spike had finally convinced Jules to go home especially with the help of Carmen who said that Jules hadn't eaten and hadn't taken any medication. Spike had played the Greg card and told her that the Sarge wouldn't be pleased to see her sitting at the hospital when she should be recuperating herself so Jules had reluctantly left leaving him alone. To calm his nerves, Spike hit the coffee machine and was on his second cup when a middle-aged woman in a white coat put her head through the doors. She looked around and spied Spike in his uniform. She headed straight towards him just as Greg walked into the room. She introduced herself as Dr Althea Richmond.

"If you'll come with me, I'll take you upstairs. Mr Braddock is in 403. Does he have family present?"

Greg shook his head. "No we've been in touch with his father but the General is out of the country at present and is making arrangements to come back."

The doctor's eyebrows raised. "His father's the General? So I guess our young Mr Braddock was army too?" Greg replied in the affirmative. "Huh! Might have known," she muttered irritably. However before anyone could ask her what her cryptic comment meant, she ushered them into an elevator and started on a rapid diatribe on the state of her patient. "Well, given the state in which he came in, he's doing remarkably well. His core temperature is almost back to normal. His heart rate is steady though that will have to be monitored over the next few days. Blood pressure is a little low for my liking as are his oxygen levels but if he continues as he is I am hopeful that they will be back within acceptable parameters before too long. Now his shoulder has been put back into place and we've cleaned and stitched the lacerations. They're all relatively minor but we have him on a course of broad-spectrum antibiotics to prevent infection. Mostly, I am concerned about the head injury." Greg and Spike exchanged looks of horror. Head injuries were the one thing they didn't want to hear. "He has a severe concussion and is currently not too coherent. We will be doing a full scan and neurological evaluation shortly but he needs painkillers and I would like to get a feel for his state of mind before I administer anything ..." she paused as the elevator doors opened and they stepped out onto the fourth floor. and turned to face them. "...and I think it would help to have someone he knows."

She lead them to a room and opened the door. A young male nurse looked up from the chart he was modifying. "Dr Richmond. He's doing better. Blood pressure's stabilizing."

"How's his oxygenation?" He handed her the chart and she nodded. "Has he been awake?"

The young man whose badge said his name was Todd shook his head. "Not really but he's restless. He's been dreaming," he answered sombrely.

"Okay thanks Todd. I don't want to give him pain medication until we assess his mental state. Can you check to see if they're set up for his scan?" Todd nodded and left as Dr Richmond checked the monitors and looked closely at her patient. Greg and Spike moved nearer. Spike could hear Greg's sharp intake of breath. Spike swallowed as he took in Sam's pale features. The bruise on his forehead was enormous, black and purple around the angry-looking broken skin along his hairline that had been pulled together with ugly black stitches. "His colour's better." Spike shot the doctor a look of astonishment. She called this better? "Sam?" Dr Richmond gently tapped his cheek. "Come on Sam, open those lovely blue eyes for me," she coaxed. Spike couldn't help smile as Sam's lips twitched and he sighed deeply. "Come on, you have company." She turned to look at them. "I need him awake. Keep him talking as long as you can."

Spike approached his bedside. "Come Sam. Wakey, wakey!" He tried to sound positive but even to his ears his voice sounded too high. Eventually after a little more coaxing Sam's eyelids fluttered. Spike was never more glad to see a pair of bright blue eyes in his life. "Hey buddy, how are you doing?"

Sam blinked at him blankly. "Did I pass?"

Spike looked at Greg who looked as surprised as him. "Er, did you pass what buddy?"

"Selection. Did I get in?"

Not having the faintest idea what Sam was talking about, Spike decided to lie. "Yeah, you got in."

Sam smiled as his eyes closed. "That'll show him," he murmured. "Said I wouldn't make it … said I was too weak ..." His voice faded as his head began to loll to one side.

Greg shook his head. He had a feeling he knew what or rather who Sam was talking about. "Sam, no. Don't go back to sleep. We need to debrief." Sam's eyes opened once more as Greg spoke as firmly and authoritatively as he could at that moment. Greg knew what the doctor was concerned about so he pushed away his own feelings at seeing the young man in such a pitiful state. He could see Sam making a huge effort. "You remember what happened Sam?"

For a moment Sam looked at him blankly clearly trying hard to clear his mind. Then his eyes took on a more focussed look. "Sarge?" Greg let out a sigh of relief that was mirrored by both Spike and the doctor, both clearly glad that Sam recognized them.

"You okay buddy?"

Sam looked around him. "Spike?" His eyes settled on the doctor.

"I'm Dr Richmond. How are you feeling Sam? Are you in pain?"

"M'fine," he muttered through gritted teeth as his eyes flickered around the room causing the doctor to arch an eyebrow in disbelief. "Hospital," he stated as though trying to explain his surroundings. Dr Richmond nodded happily but the frown returned as he closed his eyes tight as though trying to block something out. "Ghazni?"

Spike and the doctor looked at Greg in confusion. Greg mouthed the word, 'Afghanistan' before leaning a little closer. Greg spoke firmly once more. "No Sam, that was a long time ago. You're home now. Remember?"

"Home?" Sam's frown deepened. "What … what happened?"

"You went out to the studio this morning before coming to work … the MUI?" Greg prompted.

Sam was quiet for a moment clearly lost in thought then suddenly he huffed. "Bloody cat!" he moaned.

Spike's curiosity was piqued as he remembered Sam's arrival at work that day. "What about the cat?" But Sam was already somewhere else.

"Call out. Port lands. Huh! He made coffee for them."

Greg smiled nodding at the doctor who looked relieved that the strange phrase made sense to someone. "That's right Sam. You remember?"

"So cold. Explosion," he murmured, his voice fading slightly. "Fell..." The frown returned.

"Yeah, that's right," Greg's vice cracked slightly as he gently put his hand on Sam's good shoulder. "But you're going to be okay. They're going to take good care of you."

"Sonofabitch!" Greg almost shot out of skin as the word was spat from Sam's mouth. He snatched his hand away as if he'd been burned, horrified by Sam's reaction. Sam opened his eyes and stared at his boss. "That sonofabitch blew up my Sierra perch," he announced. Greg and Spike burst out laughing at the look of shocked outrage on his face.

"Yeah, yeah! That he did."

.

The Goose was busy as the team met for drinks sitting at their usual table. They all laughed as Greg recounted their visit with Sam. "I swear, I thought he was talking to me."

Wordy chuckled into his beer, "Somehow I don't think Sam would ever dare call you that."

"Well at least, it looks like he's going to be okay. It's amazing that he didn't crack his skull open but the scan showed no major damage. Just going to have one helluva headache for a few days."

"He's a tough kid." Ed raised his glass. "To Samtastic!"

"To Samtastic!" they echoed.

"I still can't believe he survived that," Lou said almost talking to himself.

"It wasn't his time." Ed muttered philosophically. Lou nodded slowly as he swirled the liquor in his glass.

"Did they say how long it will be before he's out?" asked Wordy.

Greg huffed and rolled his eyes. "Probably sooner than he should. He was already asking that question ..."

Spike burst out laughing. "... yeah right before the Doc gave him some of the good stuff for the pain he said he wasn't feeling!"

.

Jules knew she shouldn't be there. It was way past visiting hours but she knew the hospital well and knew how to avoid the night staff on their rounds. The corridor was silent as she quietly opened the door. She slipped into the room and pushed the door closed. She hesitated for a moment before moving towards the bed. She had been prepared for the injuries. Spike had mentioned the head-wound and the shoulder so she wasn't surprised to see then dressings and the sling but she felt her stomach clench as she looked at his face in the semi-darkness. Pale silvery moonlight filtered in through the gap in the curtains falling across his face giving his skin an almost ethereal glow. He was so still he looked like death. Jules shuddered as the realization of how close he had come hit her. She glanced at the monitor next to his bed for reassurance. The sound had been switched off but a series of coloured lines confirmed that his heart was beating steadily. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness she could now see the steady rise and fall of his chest. She leaned closer and gently placed a kiss on lips. He stirred slightly but didn't wake from his drug-induced sleep. She knew she had a few minutes before the nurse would be in to check on her patient so she sat silently on the edge of his bed no longer to prevent the tears from rolling down her cheeks. "Oh Sam, what are we going to do?"

.


	10. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

_Two weeks later._

Ed put his head in the door of Greg's office as Greg motioned to him that he was about to finish his call. "No, I couldn't agree with you more General. Yes sir. I appreciate that. Thank you. Goodbye."

Ed arched an eyebrow. "Sam's father?"

Greg nodded. "Seems we have a new ally!" He held out a piece of paper. Ed stepped forward and took it as Greg rounded his desk.

"Sam got the all clear? Already?" Ed asked in amazement. "You've got to be kidding me?" Greg shrugged helplessly as the two men headed towards the gym. "I suppose the General wasn't happy about it."

"No but that wasn't what he was calling about!"

Ed was surprised. "Really!"

"Apparently, he saw the news reports and let's just say he was non too pleased at the invasive nature of Channel 24 News."

Ed grimaced. "Veronica?"

"It seems that Mrs Braddock was horrified at seeing us perform CPR on their only son on live television. He was calling to thank us for our swift actions in saving his son's life … AND to let me know that he has lodged formal complaints with the news channel, the broadcasting regulatory body and the union of journalists. " Greg smirked happily. "Let's just say I have a feeling Ms Pelham is going to be looking for a new job!"

"Awesome!"

"What's awesome?" Spike asked at Ed and the Sarge entered the gym.

Ed waved the paper. "Sam's cleared for work – light duties - and the General has pulled some clout and got Veronica Pelham off our backs."

Wordy and Lou paused their training. "He got her fired?" they asked.

"Good! Serves her right! Stupid bitch!" Donna spat. "Did they really certify Sam to come back already?"

"Damn right!"

The team spun round as a familiar voice made itself known. Leaning nonchalantly against the door-frame with his jacket dangling from one finger, Sam grinned back at his colleagues. For a man who had been, to all intents and purposes, dead two weeks previously, he looked pretty good bar the nasty scar along his hairline.

Spike hopped up and ran over to his friend to pull him into a hug. "Samtastic!" He looked him up and down. "Looking smart. That a new shirt?" Sam grinned.

Ed shook his head in disbelief as he waved the medical report. "Er … Sam, this says Monday!" He studied the young man carefully. Although the scar along his hairline was still clearly visible and Ed was pretty sure that his shoulder was still strapped up, he had to admit the kid looked to be in peak health. _Unbelievable_!

"Yeah, I know I just wanted to check in with you guys and er ..." He blushed slightly as he looked around at his team. "... and say thank you, officially for pulling me out of there ..." Ed and Wordy nodded their acknowledgement. "... and er … the rest." The Sarge flipped him a little salute as Spike slung a arm around his shoulders with a big grin.

"Yeah, just don't ask me to kiss you ever again!" Spike joked as Sam blushed a deep red. "Seriously though, how did you get them to sign you off?"

Sam shrugged. "Maybe, I'm just a great negotiator!" The others all laughed much to Sam's mortification. He nodded at Greg. "I learnt from the best!" Greg blushed with pleasure at the compliment.

"Hey look who's on TV," Donna called. "Lou, turn the sound up!" She nodded at the screen in the corner of the gym. The team stopped to look at the screen where Sean Peters was standing outside the police headquarters.

" _...and I can confirm that the chief executive officer and four members of the board of directors have been arrested on charges of fraud, corruption and gross misconduct. The officer in charge of the investigation will be announcing more arrests later today including at least two men who we believe to be high-ranking officials at city hall. This far-reaching investigation has all come about after the dramatic events of two weeks ago where a group of family members of harbour management employees took over the organisation's headquarters in order to bring this to public attention. The five men are appearing in court this morning on a variety of charges including gun offences, hostage-taking and intent to cause criminal damage but charges for attempted murder of an SRU officer have been dropped. It seems that the officer who miraculously survived the explosion will not be pressing charges against the men..." _

The members of Team One with the exception of the Sarge seemed surprised by the announcement. "Sam, are you serious?" asked Ed.

Sam nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, they're going to plead guilty to the other charges. They're going to do time. Me adding to it wasn't going to help. I don't think they meant to hurt anyone."

Ed's stance clearly showed he wasn't happy and Spike huffed loudly unconvinced that anyone who illegally procured explosives didn't intend to hurt anyone. However, his attention was caught by the TV screen that had returned to a now smiling anchorman in the news studio. Oddly, Sam's official SRU portrait appeared in the corner of the screen.

"_Well, it seems that the officer involved in that incredible escape is no stranger to dramatic falls. In fact earlier that same day he got himself involved in another dramatic rescue of a rather different kind as this amateur footage shows ..."_

The team stared at the TV in fascination as the image changed to a suburban street and three children stood staring up at a tree. Two boys aged around seven and nine stood with their arms wrapped around a younger girl who was crying her eyes out as a clearly recognizable figure began to climb the tree.

"Oh no!" Sam buried his face in his hand scarcely able to believe that someone had caught it on film. He opened an eye to peer through his fingers watching himself climb. The image wobbled as it zoomed in to show the object of his climb, a large hissing mass of white and ginger fur. As his screen self approached the branch where the cat was stuck he reached out an arm. Sam winced knowing what was coming next but the rest of the team cringed in horror as four paws full of claws struck out and man and cat tumbled backwards inelegantly bouncing from branch to branch before landing in the bushes at the bottom of the tree. Fortunately for Sam the amateur cameraman was more interested in the well-being of the cat who was shown stalking away into the arms of his young mistress looking for all the world as though he had no idea what the fuss was about.

"_That had got to hurt,"_ the television anchorman supplied helpfully trying not to laugh as the image cut to a picture of a now smiling little girl with the overweight feline in her arms.

She stared out of the screen with big round eyes. _"He rescued Fluffy. He's my hero!"_ she announced solemnly. This initiated guffaws of laughter in the workout room. Sam sank onto the nearest bench and buried his burning face in his arms.

Spike dropped to a knee and declared in exaggerated falsetto. "My hero!" which earned him a couple of muffled expletives from the now thoroughly embarrassed Sam.

Lou tried to stem the tears of laughter. "Man, that could have been a real … cat-astrosphe!"

Greg patted Sam on the shoulder. "Yeah I'm surprised you were … feline .. up to anything after that."

Sam groaned. "I'm never going to live this down, am I?"

Wordy sniggered as he joined in the fun. "Well the cat's out of the bag now!"

Ed laughed. "Don't worry Sam! We'll only … milk … this for all it's worth."

Just when Sam thought that things couldn't get any worse, they did.

"_Well folks there you have it. One of the real life heroes of our fine city and if you would like to see … MORE … of him and eleven other of our brave first responders then I'm happy to tell you that it's that time of year again when the handsome young men of our police, fire and medical services bare all for a good cause! Yes, the First Responders Charity Calendar is now available. This year proceeds from the sale of the calendar will go to the children's wards at the city's hospitals and to children's hospice so make sure you get your copy. And here's a taster of what you can expect ..." _

Sam didn't dare look up as the barn resonated with whoops, cat-calls and an impromptu round of applause.

"Whoa! That's impressive!"

"Looking good Sammy!"

"Nice!"

A cheer from outside the gym drew their attention. "We owe you Braddock! The next round at the Goose is on us!" Sam looked up to see Team Three heading out. He gave them the thumbs up. His own team were grinning at him, Donna in particular.

"So that was the MUI?" she muttered, a large grin on her face. "I've gotta say Sam. That is one … strategically positioned ballistic shield!" She got up to move to another piece of equipment but not before whispering in his ear, "Cute butt!"

.

Across the city Jules was in the kitchen making coffee for her friends who were sitting on her couch admiring Becca's latest fashion statements. "Ooo ... isn't that your friend Sam?" Carmen giggled. Jules glanced at the TV screen. Her jaw dropped at the sight of Sam grinning cheekily at her as he leaned seductively on a ballistic shield. She blinked scarcely able to believe her eyes. "That is so … sexy!"

Becca giggled. "Oh got to get me one of those!" It wasn't clear whether she was referring to the calendar. "You didn't tell us he is so hot!"

"You're telling me! Hey Jules, he single?" Jules' eyes shot daggers at her friend's back. "Can I get his phone number?"

"Or better yet Jules could introduce us."

"He's spoken for!" Jules rammed the coffee pot into the machine with a vengeance. "I'm gonna kill him!" she muttered under her breath as, at the back of her mind, a tiny part of her brain confessed that as soon as Carmen and Becca were gone, she was going to go out and get herself her own personal copy of the calendar. After all, it was for charity.

.

Sam had to put up with another five minutes of awful cat jokes before he was saved. Carl Brunetti sauntered into the barn looking as smart as Sam in neatly pressed pants and button-down shirt. "There you are! The Man of the Moment!" he called as he spotted Sam and waved a greeting to the rest of Team One. "Come on Mr Superhero. Time to meet your adoring fans!"

Ed and the team paused to look at them in surprise. "Er, what's that Sam? Where are you guys off to?"

Sam gave a small secretive smile. "Launch party!"

Spike frowned. "Huh?"

Sam joined his friend. "You know … for the calendar. It's a charity event organized by the mayor. Publicity shots, meet and greet the rich and famous..."

Carl threw an arm round Sam's shoulder as they swaggered out of the door. "Free food!"

"Free drinks!"

"Gorgeous women!"

"They sending a car for us?"

"Yeah, a limo!"

"Nice!" Sam turned back to bestow his cockiest grin on his colleagues who were staring at him in amazement. "I'll give the mayor your regards. Have a great weekend guys! See you Monday!"

For once Team One were rendered speechless._ Unbelievable!_

.

**THE END!**

**Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it. **

**Mahala xx**


End file.
